


our way lighted by burning men

by Joysweeper



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Dissociation, Dysphoria, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Pegging, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joysweeper/pseuds/Joysweeper
Summary: and that has bent my mind/and made me think of darkness/and wish for the dumb life of roots. (The Want of Peace by Wendell Berry)Callista's contrived a nice night with Luke. Just the two of them, a fun toy, and the terrifying existential weight of being what she is now.
Relationships: Callista Ming/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	our way lighted by burning men

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [atamascolily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily). Log in to view. 



> This owes a lot to atamascolily's Wash Away!

They had cobbled together a harness from one of Luke's spare flight suits. It was all broad white straps, tight around her like an embrace. The dildo Callista had made from local Massassi wood. It was a heavy piece, deep reddish brown with the grain suggesting a trace of purple, coated in clear body-safe polymer that made it slippery and easy to clean. She had enjoyed carving and treating it, learning her way around the material and the tools available to her, and then getting used to it.

It wasn't the gear she had had in another lifetime, in another body, but then again that wasn't so bad. It hurt sometimes to be reminded of Geith and the lovers she'd had before him. Sometimes, the thirty years since their deaths seemed endless. Sometimes one life bled into another with only a brief, dark dream between them.

Looking down over Cray's shallow breasts and flat absent belly still wasn't right, but the body was out of focus when she wore her cock, less wrong. She could almost forget entirely for the sight of Luke kneeling at her feet and putting his lips to her cock. He kissed the tip, the flare of the head, the carvings down the shaft, and she felt the way his kisses moved it in its harness. His tongue followed his lips, short flickers followed by long unhurried strokes. Then he looked up at her with a badly-suppressed grin and took the head into his mouth, just barely using his teeth.

"Hmm?" he said, and the vibration of his voice traveled down to her skin. His breath stirred the hair that was growing out dark brown.

She could feel her heart beating in her mouth and down between her legs. "Yes. Like that," she said, and tangled Cray's thin fingers in his stars-bleached scalp. "Good boy."

Luke smiled around her cock, so pleased to please her. She held his head and her hips closer and he took it, his cheek bulging absurdly. Callista laughed at the sight. He met her eyes, pulled free, and then plunged down the length of her, working on it with his tongue. She could only feel him secondhand and through the illusion of proprioception, but that was all right. That was how this worked, and it shot comets through her, bright heads and trailing tails. Luke hummed appreciatively and she shuddered and clenched, bucking her hips into his face.

When she was done they parted, both flushed. Ruthlessly Callista pushed aside the thought that she didn't know if Luke had had enough, that he might lie if she asked. Maybe his neck and jaw ached and maybe he'd used the Force to ease them. No telling if this was gratifying for him or he was humoring her - he could have arranged for the redness in his face, put on that starry expression, because he wanted to keep her with him. She swallowed the awareness that the Force should have made guesswork and clumsy words obsolete.

She knew - she suspected - that he would've preferred to continue as they usually did. Her body ached for it, but she knew it wouldn't feel real. Since she'd looked into the rooms Cray had shared with Nichos, at the schematics and proof-of-concepts they had made, Callista hadn't been able to get the thought of droids made to seem like humans out of her mind - how she couldn't know anymore, if Luke was one - that Cray's body was like that - that she floated, slowly deliquescing, just a few degrees off from it, as she had inside the _Eye of Palpatine_ , and this poor little woman-shape enacted its programming without her input. 

Luke asked, "How do you want me?" Even as the Force had closed to her she had been made opaque to others. He did not understand what troubled her, she couldn't get him to feel it as she did, but he wanted to make her happy.

"Bend over." She kept her tone soft, more suggestion than order.

Unhesitating he did so, bracing himself on the bed with his legs apart. The tiny scars and irregularities in his skin, most of them left over from a long-ago episode of frostburn, were less numerous on his backside, and yet to Cray's tiny, soft hands even his ass was marked and textured. Luke's whole body had so much character. He was all she had in this strange new world - everyone else, she had through him - and he was beautiful, and he loved her so much.

The lube was skin-warm, just the way she liked it. She slathered it generously on her hand and grasped her cock, pulling and twisting like she was jerking it off. Behind it she was wet through, starting to feel slickness on her inner thighs. Cray's body was very enthusiastic in that regard. Callista poured a thin stream of lube down between Luke's cheeks and went for it.

She had learned already that Cray's fingers were good for this. It was so easy to slide her fingers in, one by one, and quest them further, find the right place to stroke. Already-scouted territory, and a relief to see him twitch and stifle a cry; she knew him this well at least, that this was pleasure rather than pain.

Callista raked the nails of her other hand across Luke's back and let her cock brush against his thigh. He inhaled sharply and shivered under her. She saw his hands clench. As she coaxed and teased, little by little he opened for her. At last, when she found herself filling him with four fingers, she nodded to herself and asked, "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Luke said hoarsely, giving her pause.

"We don't have to if you don't want it." She tried not to sound affronted. It was so frustrating _not knowing_ , when she could still so clearly remember them pouring themselves out and swimming through each other. How far away that was now.

He huffed a laugh. "I was trying to make a joke, sorry. I _do_ want it - I told you, I've done this before, it's just been a while." Luke craned his neck around to look awkwardly back at her, making big beseeching eyes. "Give it to me."

She chuckled and dallied long enough to bend and kiss his shoulderblade. He was so good, in so many ways. Sometimes the urge to tell old friends about him was so strong that she forgot why it was pointless to save details for them.

Luke grunted in a very satisfying way as she lined up and buried herself in him. She imagined she could feel him around her, warm and tight. Checking, Callista reached around and found him twitching and hard. For now she left his cock alone, taking him by the shoulder and the waist for better leverage. She thrust in four quick half-length strokes, then four very slow ones, almost pulling all the way out, making him groan and spasm.

"Yes. Yes, like that," he breathed. She saw his hands fisted in the bedclothes.

Deliberately, breathing out her mouth, she leaned in low over his back and thrust in the same pattern, vaguely hearing her harness click against itself. He made little noises as he moved with her and she rode him, more occupied with trying to find the right angle than with the almost electric thrill as she thrust against him.

"Wait, you slipped. Come back."

"Oh." One of the downfalls of not actually being able to feel it, but it happened. She took her cock in hand, hot from Luke's body, and gave it another coat of lube. Teasingly, she asked, "Do you _really_ want it?"

He buried his face in the sheets and made a noise, half-amused and half-aggravated. "Come on, Callista. Please."

Before long Callista realized that should have drawn out the teasing more, just to give herself a chance to rest. Sweat prickled on her skin. She panted with the effort, trying to keep it quieter than Luke's moans. Somehow, she had forgotten that it took _effort_ to fuck someone. Cray's body had filled out a bit since nearly starving on the _Eye_ , but it was nothing but a little lean muscle over bone - no thighs, no gut, no hips, no shoulders. She had no reserves to draw on. She had nothing like the endurance Callista had had, and that was a wall she'd run up against swimming and sparring but it was small and sad and frustrating now. 

How stupid, how selfish, that this incredible gift given to her, one that she knew she did not deserve and probably should not have taken, was one she could despair of. It was fine. She'd finish Luke off before her strength gave out, and he wouldn't say anything about how quick it had been, and Callista would keep forcing down many small rich meals and trying to build muscle and fat. One day she would be able to swim without starting to sink the moment she stopped moving. One day Cray's body would better suit her, and she would be better used to it, and they would meet in the middle, and maybe then -

"Ah! _Ah_ , Callista, you're so good at this. _Yes._ "

With a start Callista found that her stance and rhythm had changed, her hips moving in more of a circle. This wasn't how she did it, and it was still a tiring effort, but it was more comfortable somehow. Muscle memory, the thought came to her, and even in the heat of the moment her stomach dropped. With unsettling clarity Callista could picture Cray owning a fine glossy leather harness with a different arrangement of straps and a swooped strap-on . It was - it would be? - one of many, most of them vibrating or warming or the like, all elegant and cutting-edge. Imagination? Did, as she was coming to suspect, some of Cray's memories linger on?

Breathing hard. She should have felt tears build. Cray had trained her body not to cry easily, Callista already knew. She wasn't here, this wasn't real...

Enough. Enough! Callista reached around while grinding in at the right angle and finally Luke came, babbling something inarticulate that sounded like her name. She pulled out of him and he rolled himself the rest of the way onto the bed, mussed and sweaty with his eyelids already drooping.

"Hey," he said sleepily. "That was really good. Do you feel good? I can help." He could wake himself up, probably calling on the Force to do so, and take her in his arms and kiss her, bring her to completion as he had so many times before. Cray's body was well warmed up, aching. And it knew - the lower functions of her secondhand brain had learned - that Luke was a generous lover.

As distant as a ship in orbit, Callista smiled down at him and patted him on the collarbone. "No, you rest. I like seeing you at peace. Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

Luke looked at her with such sweetness that it twisted her heart, and he dozed off, perfectly oblivious and content.

In the 'fresher Callista got her harness off, pulled her strap-on free, and gave it a quick wash before ramming it into herself. It filled her, still carrying a trace of Luke's warmth. She propped herself against a wall and ground roughly on the wood and Cray's delicate fingers, abraded the delicate skin of Cray's back on the unfinished rock, working with an intensity that she gradually realized was between anger and despair. No information about the other woman's life, real or imagined, appeared in her mind. Callista worked herself to an orgasm that seemed to ripple from the roots of her still-short hair to her tiny cramped toes.

As it faded she lay herself down on the rug, spent and empty and wincing at the scrapes she'd put in her back. Her mind felt quieter and clearer.

Longing rose in her throat. She wanted to talk to someone - no, not to _someone_ , to anyone she had known and cared about. What would Master Altis think of her... well, not _now_ now, after a shower and she put on some clothes, she amended her thought with a half smile. What would her orthodox friends tell her? They were monastic, they didn't go for formal relationships, though there were an awful lot of _informal_ ones.

Her orthodox friends... and Master Altis, and those others among his followers that she would have confided in if she could. Maybe even her family on Chad. They might say what she couldn't - that it was terrible, to lose her great calling in life, and everyone she had ever loved, and even a body that felt like hers. Any one of those was a blow that would have hurt for years, for a lifetime. Any two, she could still have survived. As sweet and loving as Luke was, as much as she cared for him and owed him, he was one person, and entirely consumed with how happy he wanted them to be together. She had tried to talk to him. Words were so inadequate by themselves.

He was all she had now, he and the people she had met through him. Luke, and her lightsaber. She knew she should have gone back into the bedroom to lie besides him, but Callista stayed, resolutely not looking at the mirror, thinking of places Cray had never been.


End file.
